The Mask of Ra

by Paul Doherty

  ‘What, putting a viper aboard the royal barge?’

  ‘Oh no, that came later. You are a priest of Amun-Ra. You took some of the white doves which nest in the temple to some lonely spot. You then cut their bodies and released them. Doves, of course, wounded or not, fly back to their dovecotes. How many, Sethos? Six or seven? Some would die on the way, others fall from the sky, a few smatter the crowd with blood. A bad omen for the Pharaoh’s return! What were you planning to do? Increase such portents? Frighten Tuthmosis or arouse opposition against him?’ Amerotke stretched out his hands, studying his fingers. ‘You wanted to control Pharaoh. To destroy the notions and ideas he had conceived at Sakkara. Frighten him with portents and signs then control him through the lady Hatusu.’

  ‘Tuthmosis died!’ Sethos replied sharply.

  ‘Oh, you must have seen that as a sign from the gods,’ Amerotke replied. ‘An answer to a prayer. Tuthmosis, tired, his mind teeming with plans, collapsed and died before the statue of Amun-Ra. Now you had no need for wounded doves or desecrated tombs. Tuthmosis was gone, so you had to tighten your control over the lady Hatusu. You must also depict Pharaoh’s death as divine judgement: stung by a snake, a symbol of the Duat, the darkness of the underworld.’

  Sethos raised his eyebrows. ‘How?’

  ‘You are a high-ranking priest of Amun-Ra. The royal eyes and ears of the King. You can travel hither and thither and no one will question you. You left the poisoned fork in the mourning chamber, forcing Hatusu to stab her husband’s corpse with it. Meanwhile you had placed that viper in the royal barque. You had other plans, hadn’t you? You had to create confusion, chaos, dissension, so that any notion of Tuthmosis’ plans was forgotten. Certain people also had to be taken care of, those who had escorted Pharaoh to the pyramids at Sakkara: Meneloto, Ipuwer, Amenhotep. If Pharaoh had opened his heart to you perhaps he’d opened it to others? They had to be silenced. You ordered Hatusu, through your mysterious letters, to bring charges against Meneloto. Ipuwer you killed in the council chamber while poor Amenhotep, he would answer an invitation from my lord Sethos. He would go down to some lonely plot on the banks of the Nile. Did you kill him personally? Or were the Amemets waiting? Did you give them clear instructions to kill him, remove his head and send it as a gift to cause further dissension when the royal circle met at that fateful banquet?’

  ‘A good story,’ Sethos said. ‘But why should I do all this?’

  ‘To defend the temple worship. To create such confusion and chaos that Tuthmosis’ dreams and anyone involved in them would be forgotten. You must have thought you were chosen by the gods. The rivalry between Hatusu and Rahimere was fertile ground for your sowing.’

  ‘With snakes?’ Sethos jibed.

  ‘Ah! Do you remember the trial of poor Meneloto? He summoned in his defence the old snake priest Labda. He was talking about snakes, vipers, but he also made a startling reference to you. In describing the poisonous nature of vipers, he said, “My lord Sethos himself will also know this”! At the time no one paid any attention but you did. Labda was referring to the fact that, although your father was a priest in the service of Amun-Ra, your mother was a priestess in the service of the snake goddess Meretseger. She would have knowledge of vipers, those snakes which thrive in the desert or along the lush banks of the Nile. Her tomb in the Necropolis attests to this. My kinsman, Prenhoe, went to investigate. He was the one who brought my attention to the old priest’s words. Prenhoe may be a dreamer but he is a sharp, keen observer. He found your parents’ tombs. On the outside is a picture of your mother.’

  Sethos blinked and looked away.

  ‘You remember it well, don’t you? She’s garbed in priestly robes, holding a snake while teaching a young boy, with a lock of hair falling down the side of his face, how to hold it. You are that boy, skilled in the handling of snakes.’ Amerotke made himself more comfortable. ‘You took a viper and put it on board the royal barque, while the fork you gave divine Hatusu is often used by snake priests!’

  Sethos was now breathing quickly, head going back, eyes half-closed.

  ‘If you know how to handle snakes,’ Amerotke continued, ‘they are not dangerous. You brought one into the council chamber concealed in a scribe’s writing satchel. Fed and quiescent, lulled by the dark bag, the viper would rest there. When the council meeting adjourned you exchanged writing satchels. Poor Ipuwer thrust his hand in and the snake struck immediately. As for Omendap, did the wine contain some sort of snake venom? Did you put the poisoned flasks among his personal belongings before we left Thebes or during the march north?’

  ‘Proof!’ Sethos grated. ‘You still have to offer proof.’

  ‘You thought everything would be lost in the confusion,’ Amerotke answered. ‘But then you suspected that I was stumbling towards the truth. You also realised how dangerous old Labda was. He remembered your family, your training. He had to be silenced. You went out to his shrine, murdered him and lured me there. You took away those planks. It might have been months before what the hyenas left of me was found. Another mystery to fuddle the minds and feed the rumours in Thebes.’ Amerotke paused. ‘I would have disappeared as Meneloto was intended to. The Amemets were to take him out into the Red Lands, murder him and hide his corpse. All Thebes would have considered him an escaped criminal. Confusion upon confusion! Did the Amemet leader deliver those wax dolls, the harbingers of death? Oh, and did he tell you Meneloto had escaped?’

  Sethos’ lips curled in a snarl.

  ‘As a royal prosecutor,’ Amerotke continued, ‘you’d certainly know how to communicate with that guild of assassins. You must have paid them well to follow the army, to wait for their moment, to strike at me, Omendap or Hatusu.’ Amerotke joined his hands together. ‘I know the great secret,’ he said quietly. ‘I have read the stela at Sakkara.’ He paused, his eyes on Sethos. ‘They followed Meneloto and me in. They provided all the evidence I need. One of them was captured.’

  ‘They are all dead!’ Sethos snapped. He closed his eyes at the terrible mistake he had made.

  ‘Did you go there yourself?’ Amerotke asked. ‘Did you follow the secret passageway?’

  Sethos squatted, head down.

  ‘Look at the evidence, my lord,’ Amerotke urged. ‘As royal prosecutor you would have knowledge of the Amemets. You were a close confidant of the divine Tuthmosis. You were, as a novice priest, chaplain to the Queen Mother Ahmose. You would know about her fanciful ideas regarding Hatusu’s conception. You were down at the quayside on the day Pharaoh returned to Thebes. You were present in court when the old priest made his revelation about your antecedents. You know about snakes. You were present when Ipuwer was killed. Amenhotep would trust you and certainly obey your summons, even though he was depressed and withdrawn. You would be able to approach General Omendap. Your presence near his personal baggage would go unnoticed. I do not sit in judgement on you now but, if I was in the Hall of Two Truths, I’d certainly rule you have a case to answer.’

  Sethos rubbed his face, smiling slightly.

  ‘In the end,’ he began slowly, ‘in the end, Amerotke, I was victorious. I achieved what the gods wanted me to achieve. Tuthmosis told me all that he had discovered at Sakkara.’ He spread his hands. ‘What could I do? Allow that daydreamer to return to Thebes? Destroy the temple worship which had existed for hundreds of years? Ransack the treasury? Turn out the priests? He was like a boy with a new toy! Confessing all to me as if I would leap and dance in triumph!’ He shook his head. ‘I hurried back to Thebes. I prayed for guidance. Oh, the desecration of his tomb, the wounded doves, they were just panic, but when Tuthmosis collapsed and died, I realised the gods had answered my prayer. Hatusu I could control, or thought I could. She has proved us all wrong, hasn’t she, Amerotke? She’s more man than her husband and father together. But, yes, I wanted to create confusion. I wanted to wipe away all memory of Tuthmosis’ ideas and revelations. I thought Meneloto’s trial would cause more dissension, more uncertainty. I also wondered how
much he knew, how much he might confess in open court. But, of course, the lord Amerotke sat in judgement. I knew I had made a mistake. Meneloto had to be killed but he escaped. And the others?’ He shrugged. ‘Amenhotep had to be silenced and I wonder how much the divine Tuthmosis had told Ipuwer or even General Omendap. I thought if I exploited the rivalry between Hatusu and Rahimere, any madcap plans of the dead Pharaoh would be forgotten.’ He stretched out his hands. ‘Tuthmosis might be dead but who else knew? Hatusu? Rahimere? Omendap? Meneloto? Amenhotep? If the succession was peaceful, smooth, who knows what fanciful ideas might have been put forward? Can’t you see, I had no choice! Tuthmosis, or those he’d convinced, would have struck at the very heart of Egypt’s religion. I am sorry about the Amemets and the Valley of the Kings, but again, I had no choice.’ His head came forward, eyes staring. ‘The gods were leading me, Amerotke! Seth ruled my soul. What is the meddling of men compared to the wishes of Amun-Ra?’

  ‘You will die,’ Amerotke replied.

  ‘We all do, Amerotke. Every day the shadows grow longer and draw closer. I beg one favour. I do not wish to be buried out in the Red Lands, or have my naked body hang from the pylons. I don’t want the mob mocking me. I don’t want others to know the reason why I acted. Let the sands blow over Sakkara and Cheops’ pyramid keep its secrets.’ He licked his lips. ‘I would like some wine, just a little.’

  Amerotke walked over to where the priest had placed the food and drink for the goddess. He half-filled an earthenware cup. He heard a movement and turned to see Sethos with his head back, shaking the last drops of whatever was in the small jar he had taken from his writing satchel into his mouth. He let this fall to the ground.

  ‘Venom,’ he said. ‘Poison that will stop the heart and cake the blood.’

  He lay down like a child going to sleep, resting his head against the satchel. He stretched out a hand.

  ‘Not alone, Amerotke.’

  The judge knelt beside him. He grasped Sethos’ hand, already turning cold and clammy though the grip was still strong.

  ‘Say the prayer for me,’ Sethos whispered. ‘Let my corpse be buried properly. Let my Ka go into the hall of Osiris where I will account for what I did.’

  He lay for a while then his body convulsed, specks of foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered and his head fell slack. Amerotke let go of his hand. He recited a short prayer then looked at the closed door of the shrine, the incense bowls, the sacred cups and plates. He bowed his head.

  ‘In the end,’ he prayed, ‘only the truth remains!’